


Spy Versus Spy

by camshaft22, thedarlingone (Curuchamion)



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bondage, Boot Worship, Come Eating, Consensual Non-Consent, Costume Kink, Dom/sub, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgasm Control, Safewords, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camshaft22/pseuds/camshaft22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/pseuds/thedarlingone
Summary: After Hobbie returns from an undercover mission as an Imperial officer, Wes gets some ideas about spicing up their love life.
Relationships: Wes Janson/Derek "Hobbie" Klivian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Spy Versus Spy

Wes clambered back into the vacation cottage's big bed and snuggled up behind Hobbie, wrapping his arms around his partner's waist. "Morning, sunshine," he said, starting to nuzzle little kisses against Hobbie's spine between his shoulder blades.

"Mrnin'," Hobbie mumbled, reaching back to run a sleepy hand over Wes's hip and down his thigh, drawing his leg forward. He squirmed back a little, settling his naked butt more firmly into Wes's crotch.

Wes chuckled, ignoring his cock's little twitch of interest -- for now. "Somebody woke up horny," he teased, running one hand up and down Hobbie's lean stomach.

Hobbie grumbled something long and nearly incomprehensible, which Wes, well versed in Hobbie-speak, decoded as a diatribe against stupid sexy cocksuckers who didn't have the decency to sleep late when they got the opportunity. Wes kept kissing Hobbie's back while he listened, rubbing his face against his lover's warm skin. Slowly, Hobbie's voice grew clearer as he began to wake up.

"You're not groping me yet," Hobbie observed finally. "You okay, Wes?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Wes said fondly, trailing his fingers down Hobbie's stomach and over the length of his cock, a promise of things to come. "Before I knock you out again with mindblowing sex, I just have this idea I want to ask you about."

Hobbie's moved, his back shifting against Wes's face, and he let out a longsuffering sigh. "A sex idea or a prank idea?"

"A sex idea," Wes said, running his hand down the hard muscle of Hobbie's thigh. "No prank ideas until after caf, I promise."

Hobbie scoffed, laid his hand over Wes's on his thigh and squeezed it gently. "Let's hear it," he said.

Wes wrapped his arms around Hobbie's waist again and hugged him happily. "So that joint op with the Wraiths last week got me thinking," he said.

"If this is about bringing Tainer into our bed, the answer is no," Hobbie said cheerfully.

Wes spluttered a laugh against Hobbie's back. " _Hobbs!_ " he cackled. After a few seconds, getting his giggles under control, he added, "I'll be honest, I thought you were going to say Loran."

"Ew, no," Hobbie said. "I mean, I guess he grew up attractive, but I can't stop seeing him as that little kid from the holos."

Wes nodded. "That could be an issue, I guess."

"At least his girlfriend doesn't seem to mind."

"As I was _actually_ trying to say," Wes continued, "before we got distracted by Face Loran's sex life?"

Hobbie stretched, pulled away from Wes for a second, and rolled over to face him. "Sorry, babe. Continue?"

Wes leaned in and kissed Hobbie briefly on the lips, resisting the temptation to deepen the kiss. Hobbie had a really nice mouth. "I was wondering if you still had that Imp uniform they came up with for you."

"Yeah, it's in my luggage," Hobbie said. "Targon said he tailored it specifically for me, so I might as well keep it." He narrowed his eyes. "Wait a second."

Wes offered him a sort of apologetic smirk. Anything he could say right now would just dig him in deeper.

Hobbie snickered. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh," he said, clearly biting the inside of his cheek to try and hold back his grin. "You have a thing for _Imperial officers?_ "

Wes knew he was blushing, didn't even bother trying to hide it. "Only the sexy ones," he said defensively. "You know. All pulled-together and in control." He shut his eyes for a second, remembering. "You were _really_ hot last week, okay? With the uniform, and the accent, and the -- the hitting stick --" He waved his hand, trying to pull the word he wanted out of the air.

"I always knew you liked my accent. But that’s a riding crop," Hobbie said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "Oh, Wes." He scooted up close and pulled Wes in for a longer, more thorough kiss. Breaking it, he said, "You really want this, don't you?"

Wes nodded. "I didn't know I wanted it until--" He shrugged. "Hobbie. Is this going to be a problem for you? We don't have to do it if you don't want to." 

Hobbie sucked thoughtfully on his lower lip for a few seconds. "No, I'll be fine," he said. "Last week was… weird, but it wasn't bad. Kind of fun, actually." 

Wes grinned and slid his hand across Hobbie's hip, reaching around to squeeze his butt. "Then we'll make this a whole _lot_ of fun."

"We'll talk out the details after I've had some caf," Hobbie said. He leaned in and kissed the tip of Wes's nose. "When do you want to do this? Today, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Wes said. "We'll make sure we have everything figured out and set up right. We've got a few more days of leave."

"Sounds good," Hobbie said. He hooked his leg around Wes's and rolled over on top of him, smirking affectionately down at him. "First, though. Even before caf. I think you promised me mindblowing sex?"

*****

Hobbie set his third mug of caf down on the little square kitchen table, then tucked the tail of his bathrobe under his legs and sat down. Wes was sitting in the other chair to his left, dressed in soft pants and a short-sleeved shirt, his bare feet wrapped around the chair legs. He was scowling thoughtfully at his own caf mug as he swirled a spoon back and forth in it.

"All right," Hobbie said, "so I'm going to be an Imperial officer, you're a Rebel spy. How much backstory do we need here?"

Wes looked up from his caf mug, his whole face lighting up. "Well, I'm thinking you've captured me and you're not getting anywhere," he said. "Maybe you're also a spy?"

"Spy versus spy," Hobbie said, smiling. "Sounds good. You can break in here, try to steal some kind of spy data, I catch you, then I torture you. Sexily."

"I like the way you think," Wes said, grinning. He dropped his spoon into his caf mug, stood up, and came over to sit on Hobbie's lap. 

Hobbie pushed his chair back from the table to give Wes room to sit down, then settled his right arm around Wes's waist. "Will you want me to slap you around a bit?" he asked.

Wes nodded enthusiastically, looping his left arm across Hobbie's shoulders. "Slap me, threaten me, tie me up -- ooh!" He bounced a little in Hobbie's lap. Hobbie pushed the side of his thigh gently, reminding him to be careful of Hobbie's important squishy bits. "You can use my vibroblade," Wes said gleefully. "Don't cut me, just… tease me. Threaten me with it. Trace it over my neck, stuff like that."

"Keeping it powered off, I assume," Hobbie said. A powered-on vibroblade could cut through low-grade durasteel, let alone anything in a human body.

"Obviously," Wes said, chuckling. 

Hobbie smiled. He loved seeing Wes like this -- excited, planning something, desire and mischief and passion all shining from his dark eyes. The afternoon sunshine in the room highlighted his cheekbones, emphasizing the constant play of emotions on his expressive face. Hobbie pulled Wes's chin toward him and kissed him gently.

Wes responded with fervor, licking between Hobbie's lips, deepening the kiss as his arm tightened around Hobbie's shoulders. Hobbie slid his left hand from Wes's jaw to the back of his head, weaving his fingers through Wes's short hair, pulling him closer, and settled in to enjoy the man he loved -- the way Wes snuggled against him, as much pinning him down as being held; the affectionate pushiness of his caf-flavored mouth, where Hobbie half-imagined he could even taste the sweetener Wes used; the softness of Wes's hair in contrast to the sturdy heft of his muscular body. 

After a few minutes, Wes moved on from Hobbie's mouth, leaning down to nibble and suck at the side of his neck. Hobbie slipped his right hand down from Wes's waist to fondle his firm butt, and felt Wes's free hand push his bathrobe halfway off his shoulder. 

"As much fun as this is, Wes," he said, rubbing the back of Wes's neck with his fingertips, trying to ignore the distracting little scrape of Wes's teeth at a sensitive spot just under his collarbone, "...Wes?" Oh, that was -- that was going to leave a mark. " _Wes_ ," he said again, tugging gently at his determined lover's hair.

Wes pulled back and looked up, lips still parted, a devilish glint in his brown eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to Hobbie. The pink little tip of his tongue slid out of his mouth and trailed across his upper lip, slowly, deliberately. "What?" he asked in mock innocence, a slow grin spreading across his tanned face.

Hobbie laughed and leaned his forehead against Wes's. "Once I have you all tied up and properly intimidated, what am I supposed to do with you?" he asked.

"Anything you want," Wes said, rubbing his nose affectionately against Hobbie's. "Tease me, spank me, make me beg. Call me names. Bend me over and fuck me senseless. What do you want to do?"

Hobbie leaned back in his chair and chewed on his lower lip for a moment, thinking it over. He never would have dreamed up this particular idea himself, but various aspects of it were already familiar. He knew from long experience how much Wes loved being tied up, being teased to the edge of orgasm and made to beg for his release. They'd roleplayed for sex before, usually a fairly simple scenario like "grateful civilian thanking his heroic rescuer", nothing involving costumes or props. He'd only spanked Wes in the bedroom a few times -- they had yet to figure out a system of restraints that worked quite the way they wanted -- but he loved how easily it reduced Wes to a needy, ecstatic wreck, flinching away from the blows yet pleading for more. He wasn't surprised the riding crop had given Wes ideas.

The vibroblade would be new. The costume, the insults. But he had enjoyed his role in the Wraiths' mission, mimicking some of his old instructors, leaning into his own accent and poise. He could easily do that again, especially knowing Wes found it attractive. And pretending to force himself on someone might feel strange, but Wes wanted him to do it; fundamentally, it would just be a more violent version of the rough, aggressive sex he knew they both enjoyed.

If he was honest with himself, his unease came from the novelty of combining so many elements into one long scene, rather than from discomfort with anything Wes was asking for. And if he was _very_ honest with himself, he was starting to get some ideas of his own.

"All of that," he said, taking Wes's free hand in his own, looking deep into Wes's brown eyes and seeing his own love for this beautiful, mischievous, clever, ridiculous man reflected there. "I want all of it. And I want you to fight me. Scream and struggle and curse me out -- don't touch on my real shavit, obviously."

Wes nodded. "Just pretend you're a loyal son of somewhere other than Ralltiir and go from there?"

"Exactly," Hobbie said, rubbing his thumb across Wes's knuckles for a moment. "Make me work for it, Wes. I want to see you fierce and sassy and…" He leaned in for a brief kiss. "Make me fight you for everything I get. Don't give in too easily. Make it last. I want to tease you and insult you and spank you, and then I want to break you." Hobbie closed his eyes for a second and tried to steady his breathing. Just imagining all this was making him hard. "I want to see you bent over, tied down, begging for my cock. I want you to call me Master and tell me whatever Rebellion secrets you can dream up. Make me fuck them out of you. Can you do any of that for me?"

"All of it," Wes said, his voice thick and husky with lust. "I want all of that so bad, Hobbs. Force --" He leaned forward and sucked Hobbie's lower lip into his mouth, licking at it for a moment. "Hobbs, can we do this tonight?" he asked against the corner of Hobbie's mouth. "Please?"

Hobbie brought his hand up from Wes's butt, ran it all the way up his hard-muscled back to tangle in his hair. For a few seconds, nibbling at Wes's eager lips and tongue, he considered it.

"Tomorrow, like you said," he decided regretfully, murmuring the words into Wes's mouth. Wes pulled back and gave him a betrayed look. Hobbie smiled. "Wes, I need you well rested," he said. "This is going to take a long time and a lot of energy, if we do it right. Interrogating a sexy Rebel spy isn't going to be any fun for either of us if you're dozing off instead of fighting me. Okay?"

Wes pouted. "Are you at least going to suck me off tonight so I can get to sleep instead of thinking about how hot this is going to be?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the pout from turning into a mischievous smirk.

Hobbie gave him a smug grin. "Pushy bastard," he said. "I dare you -- I _dare_ you not to get off until I finish you off tomorrow." Just to be an asshole, he dropped Wes's hand in his lap and started to fondle Wes's cock, already straining at the stretchy fabric of his pants.

"I hate you," Wes moaned, wiggling as he tried to rub against Hobbie's hand and force himself to pull back at the same time. He grabbed Hobbie's wrist and lifted it away from his groin. "Just for that, you're big spoon. I'm not letting you grind on my cock all night."

"It's less than a day," Hobbie said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Sometime I want to give you a real challenge."

"If you lock up my dick, I'm locking yours up too," Wes said. "I bet I last longer than you if we do that."

"I bet you don't," Hobbie retorted. "You're a horny little fucker." He leaned down and kissed the side of Wes's neck for emphasis.

Wes rubbed his lightly stubbled jaw against Hobbie's cheek. "Someday we'll have to test that."

"Someday," Hobbie said. "Not tonight. It's your turn to cook supper, by the way."

Wes tightened his arm briefly around Hobbie's shoulders again in a lopsided hug. "Slave driver," he said cheerfully, and got to his feet, then stopped for a moment, visibly trying to ignore the way his pants brushed at his erection.

Hobbie pinched his ass. "You know you love me," he said, smirking. Wes glared at him and headed over to the conservator, moving gingerly. Hobbie watched him, smiling. Tomorrow was going to be excellent.

*****

Wes prowled around the outside of the little vacation cottage, ignoring the way his heartbeat was trying to hurry under his ribs. He checked his bright orange flightsuit's collar seal one more time -- though he must have checked it forty times already in the fifteen minutes since he'd changed his clothes -- then glanced at his wrist chrono. Two more minutes.

All right. He was a Rebel spy, trying to steal some kind of important data from the computer console in an Imperial captain's vacation cottage. He would be caught, he would fight briefly, and then...

Wes stretched quickly and shook his arms and shoulders out, trying to calm down. He was already half-hard from anticipation, his loose flightsuit teasing his cock as he moved. Since this was a sex game rather than a real mission, he wore no undershorts.

His chrono chimed. Time to go. One of the cottage's windows was open a few centimeters; Wes slipped his fingers under the edge of the pane and slid it up silently. Separating the curtains stealthily, he peeked through. Inside was the cottage's front room, empty of people, a computer console sitting on a table in one corner, a chair before it. Swinging one leg up, Wes straddled the windowsill, then ducked quietly through the window into the room.

Quickly, he hurried across the room to the table and tried to access the computer console. It had not been left logged in, worse luck. From his pocket he pulled a scrap of flimsi with a list of Imperial computer codes scribbled on it, and began entering them one by one.

"What have we here?" a clipped Imperial voice demanded from behind him. "A Rebel spy?"

Wes whirled, dropping the piece of flimsi, and just stared for a moment. Hobbie looked _magnificent_. His usual gangly diffidence was gone, not just hidden by the well-tailored Imperial uniform, but replaced with a cold, haughty confidence. He stood at attention, every line of him radiating cruelty and finesse, his riding crop tucked under one arm as if he'd been carrying it all his life. From the little gray cap on his slicked-back blond hair, right down to his mirror-bright high boots, he was the picture of a perfect Imperial officer.

Hobbie -- no, the Imperial officer -- set down the riding crop and strode forward, snapping Wes out of his momentary thrall. Wes darted for the window and tried to scramble out, but the officer caught up to him in a few quick strides, losing his hat in the process, and grabbed him by his collar, hauling him back into the room. He was startlingly strong for such a slim man.

"Why are you here, spy?" he snapped. "What have you taken?"

"Guess," Wes said, and raised his knee carefully to Hobbie's groin, as if trying to fight back and break the Imperial's grip. The man blocked the blow with his left hand, letting go of Wes for a second and shifting his grip, then shoved Wes backwards and pinned him against the wall, his left forearm like a bar of steel across Wes's chest just below his collarbones. 

"I will break you, spy," the Imperial officer hissed, still affecting the clipped Coruscanti accent that most high-ranking Imps either had or imitated. 

Wes gave him a mirthless grin, all bared teeth and curled lip, almost an animal snarl. "You couldn't break an Endor pine twig with both hands." He felt a fist pressed against his stomach, Hobbie pretending to strike him, and groaned theatrically, doubling over in simulated pain, as much as he could with Hobbie's prosthetic arm still pinning his shoulders.

The Imperial officer smiled, sharp and violent. "How should I kill you, Rebel?"

"How about you don't?" Wes asked, making his voice strained. "I didn't take anything. Let's just, uh, go our separate ways."

The Imperial officer laughed in his face, mocking him. “They do accept anyone in your little rebellion," he sneered, raising his eyebrows sarcastically. "No one so stupid would make it past their first week in the Imperial service.”

Wes struggled futilely; the Imperial's arm across his chest did not budge. “Well, lucky me then," he said.

Hobbie snorted, breaking character, and tried to bite back a grin. 

Wes blew a silent kiss across the few centimeters separating his face from Hobbie's. "Sunny skies?" he asked.

"Sunny skies," Hobbie confirmed. "Sorry. Just… yeah."

Wes nodded. “I’m ready.”

Hobbie shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, it was with the proud glare of the Imperial soldier. “Well, Rebel, I do believe your luck has run out," he said in the Coruscanti accent. He gently fake-punched Wes in the gut twice more.

Wes groaned again, clutching at his stomach, then raised his chin defiantly and pursed his lips. Hobbie tilted his head for an instant, then nodded. 

Wes spat in the Imperial officer's face, hitting his cheek. The officer pulled back a bit, but not enough for Wes to break free. "Disgusting Rebel," he said, wrinkling his nose. He lifted his knee and touched it to Wes's stomach, then stepped back and let him sag to the floor. 

Wes lay huddled against the wall, clutching his middle and moaning artistically. He watched as the Imperial officer took out a handkerchief and wiped the spit off his face, then stepped over to a side table and picked up the conveniently placed blaster there.

"Should I stun you, Rebel scum?" the officer remarked conversationally. "Or should I simply burn off something nonessential -- a foot, an ear, a finger -- and incapacitate you with pain?"

Wes gasped hoarsely a couple of times as if regaining his breath. "I can't tell you anything if I'm screaming," he pointed out. Still with one arm wrapped around his midsection, he made a valiant effort to crawl away from his captor.

The Imperial officer smirked evilly. "Oh, I think you can," he said. He checked the blaster's settings, then aimed it and pretended to fire. "Wes, you're stunned."

Wes flopped dramatically over on the ground. "Oh no, I've been captured by, let me just say, a really incredibly sexy evil Imperial captain. You look great, Hobbs."

Hobbie grinned shyly. "Either stay in character or get me the binder cuffs," he said.

Wes flipped him a sassy little salute. "Your word is my command," he said, scrambling to his feet, and trotted off to get the cuffs and rope for the next part of this scenario.

When Wes returned from the bedroom, Hobbie had pulled the chair from the computer table out into the middle of the room. He'd also gotten back into character. Wes just stood and watched him for a minute as he puttered around the room, brisk and precise, picking up his hat, straightening the rug that had gotten knocked slightly askew in the scuffle, closing the window, discarding the scrap of flimsi Wes had dropped. Wes found Hobbie attractive enough under normal circumstances -- they'd been a couple for years, after all -- but this Imperial persona, violent and dominant and cruel, was doing embarrassingly primal things to him.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the doorjamb in a casual pose and offering a mischievous smirk. He dangled the binder cuffs from one forefinger, swinging them back and forth.

The Imperial officer evaporated for a moment, and Hobbie stood there by the chair. He beckoned Wes to him. Wes hurried over, handing Hobbie the rope and binder cuffs. Hobbie dropped the rope on the floor, then bent down and kissed Wes, pushing his arms behind his back; the cuffs clicked into place around Wes's wrists. For a moment they just stood there in an awkward half-embrace, savoring the kiss.

"You're sure about this?" Hobbie asked.

Wes nodded. "Sunny skies," he confirmed, the codeword that meant he was still comfortable with what had happened and was about to happen. "Hobbs, if you don't want to do this--"

"Sunny skies," Hobbie said firmly, smiling down at him. "I just don't want to injure you, Wes. Emotionally or physically."

Wes stretched up and kissed Hobbie, licking and nibbling gently at his full lower lip. "I want this, Hobbs," he said slowly between kisses. "The blade, the slapping, the insults, the spanking, the fucking. I _want_ you to break me." He pulled back, giving Hobbie a serious look. "If you need to stop, we can stop, and I promise, if I need to stop or change anything I'll tell you right away. But please, don't…" He frowned, chewing on the tip of his tongue, fumbling for words. "Please don't stop just because you think I might need to. Okay?"

Hobbie shut his eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath, then cupped his hands around Wes's face. The fine nerf-hide leather of his gloves felt smooth and soft on Wes's cheeks. "You're asking me to trust you," Hobbie said slowly, looking into Wes's eyes. "You know your own limits; I shouldn't try to protect you from what you want. Is that about right?"

Wes chuckled. "Yes. It goes both ways, Hobbs," he said, smiling up at his lover. "It's just like spanking me. I trust you to stop, and you trust me to tell you when."

Hobbie shook his head a little. "Wes, you could actually get badly hurt. I'm going to be holding a vibroblade to your throat."

Unable to hug with his arms cuffed behind his back, Wes stepped forward and pressed his chest against Hobbie's, nestling his cheek against the crisp fabric and high collar of the Imperial uniform. "We can leave that part out if you want, Hobbie," he offered, feeling a little disappointed, but willing to accept the change. Sometimes, in the moment, things that had sounded sexy became too intense or too weird for one of them.

Hobbie hugged him close and stroked his hair for a minute. "Can you tell me -- I get it if you can't, but it might help if I understand better exactly what you want out of that."

Wes nodded, frowning as he thought. "It's like revving an engine," he said, and felt Hobbie sigh softly in affectionate, resigned incomprehension. "It's, um, let me think. I mean, you know how I am when you tie me up."

Hobbie nodded too, chin rubbing against the top of Wes's head. "Thrashing around, trying to break free?"

"Yeah."

"Stop me when I get there," Hobbie said, "but it's my impression that makes you feel safe. Secure. Like you can't get out so you just… let the world go away."

Wes scowled thoughtfully, trying to find the right words. "It does," he said. "That's why... " He knew what he meant, what he wanted, but those desires sat in a different part of his mind than the one that did words. "I, I fight the ropes so I know they can hold me. But the blade -- I have to hold still. _I_ have to hold me still." He tugged at the binder cuffs behind his back, their unyielding resistance helping to calm his frustrated brain. "Just for a few seconds. Then I can let go again. And it's like…" He chewed on the tip of his tongue, fumbling to even identify what he meant, let alone put it into words.

"I get it," Hobbie said. "It's like stretching after a run. You pull the muscle tight for a minute, and then it can relax more. Right?"

"Yes!" Wes said, nodding. "Yes. It'll wind me up so I can let go more." He nuzzled his face into Hobbie's shoulder for a second, felt Hobbie's hands rubbing his back through his flightsuit. "It's okay if you can't do it, Hobbs," he said. "I understand." 

Hobbie hugged Wes tight and pressed a firm kiss into his hair. "I'm going to try," he said. 

Wes pulled back a little and tilted his chin up, asking for another kiss on the lips. "That's all I can ask for," he said, smiling fondly. Love bubbled up in him like a pot boiling over on the stove. Hobbie was so brave and protective and snarky and stubborn, and Wes loved him so, so, so much. "I love you, Hobbie," he said, unable to find any more eloquent words to say what was in his heart.

Hobbie leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you too, Wes," he murmured, shifting into a series of little kisses around Wes's mouth, nuzzling and licking gently at his lips.

For some time, Wes returned this treatment enthusiastically, dotting quick kisses over whatever parts of Hobbie's mouth and face he could reach. Then he pulled back, grinning. "Sunny skies?" he asked.

"Sunny skies." Hobbie pulled Wes's face to his chest and nuzzled his hair for a few seconds. Then he said, "Here, let me help you sit down. I probably shouldn't have cuffed you first."

Wes let Hobbie help him into the chair and guide his arms to loop around the upright back. While Hobbie worked with the rope, tying his arms and legs to the chair, Wes watched with interest as Hobbie slowly shifted back into the cold Imperial persona, the whole shape of his face and body seeming to change. Wes's 'Rebel spy' in this scenario was basically identical to Wes, if slightly more optimistic about his own slicing skills, but Hobbie's role was that of the man Hobbie might have been if his personal history had gone very differently.

Finally, Hobbie finished tying Wes and stood up, fully subsumed in the Imperial persona once again. Wes slumped against his bonds, closing his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. He heard Hobbie moving around the room for a minute, then felt something soft being trailed across his cheekbone.

"Wake up, scum," the Imperial officer said, his voice once again clipped and precise. Wes opened his eyes, saw first the Imperial's shiny boots, then his long legs. He looked up, over the man's narrow hips and trim upper body, to his calm cruel face. The officer was still hatless, but held the riding crop in one hand, trailing its business end over Wes's jaw and down his neck.

Wes glowered at his captor. He wrenched at his bonds for a minute, trying to find any give in them, but the Imperial had tied him well. "You stunned me," he said in a perplexed tone, remembering the threat of localized blaster burns.

The Imperial smiled, slow, cold, razor sharp. Wes felt his breath catch and his cock hitch at the sheer danger in the man's whole demeanor. "Yes, I did," the officer said. "I have more… precise ways to torture you than with a blaster." He dropped the riding crop, letting it dangle from his right wrist by a strap, and slid two gloved fingers up his left sleeve; there was a rasp of metal on leather, and the Imperial officer drew a vibroblade from a forearm sheath. He raised it in his gloved right hand, turning it so its blade glinted in the light. It was powered off, but still obviously sharp enough to cut flesh or fabric. 

The Imperial trailed the vibroblade's point under Wes's ear, past the angle of his jaw, and down across his throat under his chin. Wes held very still, his heart thudding behind his sternum. "Where is the location of your Rebel base?" the Imperial officer asked, and withdrew the vibroblade for a second so Wes could speak safely.

"Up your ass," Wes spat, jutting his chin defiantly.

The officer slapped him, left-handed, hard enough to spin Wes's head sideways for a moment. "Once I know the location, Rebel, perhaps I'll send them a little present." He gestured with the vibroblade, holding it some centimeters away from Wes's face. "An ear, a nose, perhaps an eye…" Then he set the edge of the blade against Wes's neck again. "Perhaps just your whole head. More recognizable that way, what do you think?"

Wes swallowed very carefully, felt his throat move past the blade. "Why don't I just bring them _your_ head," he suggested.

The Imperial laughed, a brittle, poisonous sound like broken glass. Wes hid the half-horrified shudder of arousal that went through him, held the man's gaze steadily, willing him not to look down, not to see just how... acutely this situation was affecting him.

"Unacceptable," the Imperial officer said crisply, removing the blade from Wes's neck. "Why don't _you_ simply save me some time?"

Wes laughed weakly. “I’d happily die to waste your time.”

"So I win both ways," the officer retorted. "You’ll tell me everything, and then you’ll die, slowly and painfully.” He gripped Wes's hair with his left hand, and with his right, traced the vibroblade along the line of Wes's cheekbone, only a few centimeters under his eye. Wes glared up at the man, willing himself not to yank at his bonds, his whole body tensing at the blade's touch.

Finally the blade was withdrawn. Wes jerked his head sideways, pulling his hair out of the Imperial's grasp. For a long minute he strained and wrenched at the ropes around his biceps and shins, the binder cuffs on his wrists, using all his considerable strength to try and tear free. He struggled fiercely, but the bindings were solid. Eventually he slumped in the chair, trembling from exertion, breathing hard, his cock now achingly taut with his bone-deep awareness that he was trapped here, held firmly, unable even to touch himself, at Hobbie's sardonic mercy.

"I'll never tell you anything," he managed, trying to turn the lust in his voice into a defiant snarl. He wasn't sure how well he succeeded, or if he did at all.

The Imperial officer barked a tight, mirthless little laugh. "I've heard that before and I'll hear it again. One more time. What is the location…" He paused and drew the side of the vibroblade down Wes's cheek, almost gently, as if caressing him with it, then withdrew it. "...of the Rebel base?"

"Go fuck a rancor," Wes snapped, wrenching at his bonds again. "You're not going to break me. Give it up, asswipe."

Elegantly, the Imperial officer slid the vibroblade back up his left sleeve, returning it to its forearm sheath. He pulled the wrist strap of his riding crop off his right wrist, then slapped Wes again, right-handed this time. "Anyone can be broken," he said, smiling thinly. "Anyone. Even you, little Rebel." 

"Suck a brick," Wes retorted, aware that his insults were getting less creative, aware that the growing ache in his cock was the reason why. 

The Imperial captain stepped back for a second, looking Wes over from head to toe. His smile grew, sharp and cruel, as his gaze settled on Wes's erection. Wes looked away, glaring at the ceiling, his whole body flushing hot with both humiliation and desire. He _wanted_ his captor to know exactly how turned on he was, how the beatings and threats had gone straight to his cock, how shamefully aroused he was by the teasing promise of that evil little smirk. He wanted, more than anything, to be the plaything of a man he was sworn to fight, and that contradiction only made him harder.

The Imperial officer licked his lips. "I see," he said, sneering. "The Rebellion is so desperate for Imperial attention that even torture will do." He reached down with the riding crop, trailing its tip over the bulge in Wes's flightsuit. "Is this why you came here, little Rebel? Would you rather I fucked the location out of you?"

Wes fought the urge to buck his hips into the touch, bit back the little whimper of need that tried to force its way out of his throat. "No, please, no," he lied.

With a razor-sharp smirk, the officer flicked the tip of the riding crop over Wes's cock, not painfully, just enough to tease him even further. "Then the _location_ , spy."

Wes swallowed down a moan. "Fuck you," he growled, his breathing ragged. "Fuck you and your Empire."

The officer smiled again, that painfully, unfairly sexy smile of tight, mirthless cruelty. "You little Rebel slut," he said, amusement lacing his voice. "I don't even have to torture the information out of you. I can just reach out…" He set aside the riding crop, then bent down, leaning one hand on Wes's shoulder. "...and _take_ it." He wrapped his free hand around Wes's cock, bunching the fabric of his flightsuit as he did so.

Wes met the Imperial officer's gaze. The pupils of the officer's blue-gray eyes were blown wide and dark with lust. _He wants me too_ , Wes realized, and that knowledge even more than the sudden stimulation made him groan and arch his hips upward, trying to fuck into the man's firm grasp. "Let go of me," he moaned, unable to keep his body's demands out of his voice.

The Imperial officer laughed, sharp and brittle and pointed. "You don't tell me what to do, slut," he said. He released his grip on Wes's cock -- Wes strangled back a gasp at the sudden loss -- then straddled Wes's lap. "You'll do what I say," he continued, pressing close to Wes, rocking his hips, rubbing against him. Wes couldn't hold back the tiny whimpers of need that spilled from him. It was almost enough, almost right, and he barely managed to close his mouth over the word _please_.

Abruptly, the man pulled back, standing up again, and straightened his uniform jacket. "You want more, slut?" he said. "Then tell me the location of the Rebel base."

"Will you let me go if I do?" Wes asked, squirming openly in his chair now, the barely-there friction of his flightsuit over his sensitive cock only teasing him worse. He needed to be touched again -- by his own hands, the Imperial's, he didn't care.

The Imperial officer smiled, slow, deadly, vicious. He bent forward, his hand once again on Wes's shoulder in a mockery of friendship. "No, I won't," he whispered in Wes's ear, his breath warm and soft. "You’ll be mine. My reward for stopping a Rebel attacker. _But_ …" He reached down, gripped Wes's cock, squeezed it firmly. Wes half-yelped, tried to strangle back the noise, only turned it into a series of ragged little whimpers. 

"If you give them up," the Imperial officer continued, loosening his grip, his fingers teasing and caressing Wes, drawing noises of want from him that he couldn't control any more -- " _if_ you give them up, I can make this very good for you. Very, very good." He leaned in and bit Wes's neck. "I'll make you my pretty pet, Rebel."

Wes groaned and bucked his hips, rubbing needily against the man's hand. "I will kill you," he ground out through clenched teeth, still arching into the caresses, knowing the lie was worthless when his lust-thickened voice betrayed his desires as much as did the desperate movements of his body.

The Imperial pulled back and stood upright, releasing Wes's cock with a disdainful little flourish of his wrist. "Will you, though?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I very much doubt that." 

Damn the man, how could he stay so in control? Only a slight flush on the Imperial officer's sallow cheeks and the mostly-hidden bulge in his uniform trousers hinted that he felt any arousal at all, yet Wes knew Hobbie had to be almost as turned on as he himself was. "Just untie me and I'll show you," Wes growled, jerking uselessly at the ropes again.

The Imperial officer smirked, giving Wes a superior look down his aristocratic nose. "Oh, I'll untie you. Eventually." He paced around Wes in a slow circle, his boots heavy on the floor. "First, I think, let's get this off you." He unsealed Wes's flightsuit down to his waist and opened it, pushing it off Wes's shoulders. Though the air in the cottage was warm, it felt cool on Wes's bare, flushed chest. "Now you look more like the slut you are, hmm?" The Imperial ran the back of his gloved hand down from Wes's collarbone, then twisted one of his nipples.

Wes yelped and jerked away, even as his cock twitched. "Die. Just die," he snapped, knowing he was within a breath of begging to be taken any way the Imperial officer would have him.

"Death will have to wait," the officer said, smiling evilly. "I'm going to fuck the location out of you, slut. Let's see what we have here." He bent down and unsealed Wes's flightsuit the rest of the way, down over his crotch. Wes felt the fabric fall away, felt his aching cock spring free; his own eyes were locked on the Imperial's face.

There, finally, was a smile of predatory desire. "You _filthy_ Rebel whore," the man breathed, looking like he'd just unwrapped a lifeday present. "Oh, I'm going to make such good use of you." He reached out with one finger, as if to stroke Wes's cock from base to tip; Wes held completely still, wanting so badly he could barely breathe.

Just before he would have touched Wes's cock, the Imperial drew his hand back. "You want this, slut," he said, his smile brittle and sharp.

"Please, sir," Wes begged, unable to hold himself back anymore. He jerked and wriggled, fucking the empty air. "Please touch me. Take me, fuck me. I'll do anything. Please."

The officer nodded decisively. "The location."

"Ralltiir," Wes blurted. "We're on Ralltiir."

Hobbie snickered, then doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing in delight. "You _asshole_ , Wes," he said, grinning. "You held out that long knowing you were going to crack me up as soon as I broke you?"

Wes gave him a mischievous grin. "You're kriffing scary."

"That's what you asked for. Having fun?"

Wes dragged in a deep breath. "Oh _hell_ yes. You?"

Hobbie dropped to his knees, pulled out the vibroblade, and began cutting the ropes around Wes's legs. "Absolutely. This is amazing." A little groan escaped him, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I have a hard-on like you would not believe."

"I'll believe it once it's inside me," Wes said, winking broadly.

Hobbie chuckled. "You're filthy and I love it. Be patient, I still want to spank you first." He finished with the ropes and began pulling Wes's boots off. "Can I cut you loose to undress you, or are you going to have too much trouble keeping your hands off your cock?"

Wes stretched, as much as he could while still tied up, and cracked his neck. "Leave the binders on as much as you can," he said. "Force, Hobbs, I want you so much."

Hobbie stood up, one boot forgotten in his hand, and kissed Wes deeply, thoroughly. "Me too," he said, smiling. "Let's get this into the bedroom, huh?"

*****

Hobbie flipped the power switch on the ankle restraints, sealing the apparatus to the floor, then leaned up and kissed the side of Wes's bare hip. "How's that?"

Wes let out an uncontrolled groan of wordless arousal. He was so turned on that even his lover's smallest touches seemed to send sparks of electricity shooting through him. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to focus for a moment.

He stood naked, bent over, at the foot of the bed, his chest resting on the mattress. His wrists, still cuffed, were secured over his head by a complex arrangement of ropes. He tugged and pushed at the binders, tried to move his arms from side to side; he was held fast. His feet, spread apart, were secured by another pair of binder cuffs, the kind with a rigid bar between them, attached to the tiny gravity-well generator Hobbie had just switched on. 

Wes arched, twisted, bucked experimentally, testing his range of motion. His wrists and feet stayed at their fixed points. His body and especially his hips could move somewhat, but he couldn't lean forward enough to brush his erection against the mattress, couldn't twist sideways out of Hobbie's easy reach. He stretched backward, tugging at the ropes, and stifled another groan of anticipation. "It's perfect," he said.

Hobbie stood up, still fully clothed in the Imperial uniform. He stroked one of Wes's buttocks, the fine leather of his glove smooth on Wes's skin, then cupped it and squeezed gently. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice full of held-back want.

Wes whimpered and wriggled, clenching his butt under Hobbie's hand for a moment. "Please, Hobbs," he moaned. "Sunny skies."

"Sunny skies," Hobbie confirmed. He bent down and pressed a little kiss into the dip of Wes's lower back, just above his tailbone. Hobbie pulled away and became the Imperial Officer again. “You awake, you filthy slut?” he asked, smacking his ass. 

Wes yelped and jerked away, fully aware of how exposed and vulnerable he was, bent over like this. He couldn't get away or shield himself; he had to submit to whatever the Imperial wanted to do to him.

The Imperial got close, pressing his weight against the rebel’s spine. “I’ve told my superiors. They’re going to kill every single person. Because of you,” he whispered in his ear. “But lucky you. You get to stay here. Safe, secure and my pretty pet.”

Wes whimpered, straining at the ropes. The intoxicating weight of the Imperial captain pinning him, the deliciously evil whisper, the crisp uniform and the hard body within it pressing against his naked back and butt, all combined to light up parts of his brain he didn't have any control over.

"Please, sir," he begged, his breath coming in little gasps. "I've betrayed them, I need to be punished. Please."

“You didn’t betray me. You helped me very much. But luckily, I wanted to beat you anyway.” The Imperial bit into his neck hard then pulled away, taking the riding crop and slapping it across his ass. 

Wes cried out, the jolt of pain making his arousal flare even further. He needed the Imperial to strike him again and again, driving his conscious thoughts deep inside his head, taking ownership of him. He squirmed, wanting to stay still for the delicious pain, wanting desperately to strain forward and try to fuck himself against the mattress he couldn't quite reach. Wordless little noises bubbled from his throat as he wriggled.

The Imperial struck him up and down his ass and thighs until they were hot and red. He drew a gloved finger over the welts left. “Beautiful. What a beautiful pet. So desperate. Beg me to fuck you, slut.”

Wes felt his face flush hot with humiliation. He was fully under the Imperial officer's control, knowing he would do anything his master ordered. "Please," he begged, almost sobbing from pain and need and uncontrolled lust, "please, please fuck me. I'll do anything. I need you, Master." The word slipped out without thinking, and he choked. "Take me. I can't bear it any longer. I'm all yours." 

“I suppose you’ve earned that at least,” The Imperial said coolly as he slowly stripped off his gloves and slapped them across his ass. He got the slick and stretched Wes quickly, then rolled a protective onto his cock. He then thrust in, not bothering to ease in. “You’re so tight. I’m surprised they didn’t just rent you out.”

Wes groaned aloud, too overwhelmed by the aching fullness to figure out a witty comeback. The Imperial's cock filled him perfectly, almost too much, rubbing against everything inside him at once. "Please," he moaned, his body clenching helplessly around it. He was so close to coming already. He needed the sweet torture of being fucked far beyond what he thought he could bear, his cock still untouched, of feeling the Imperial claim him completely before he was allowed any relief.

The Imperial angled his dick and pounded into Wes’s prostate. “You're not allowed to come until I say so, Rebel scum. Understood?" he asked, fucking into him. 

A whimpering half-scream escaped Wes. He needed this so badly. "Please, please, take me," he begged. Nothing mattered but being filled, having the Imperial control him, overwhelming all rational thought. "I'm yours. I'll do anything you say."

The Imperial reached forward and stroked his hair back gently, then pulled it hard, yanking Wes's head back while he still fucked into Wes's ass hard and rough. The stimulation was all too much. Wes half sobbed, unable to control himself, unable to come or do anything but give himself up to the Imperial captain's needs. "Please, please," he babbled, not even knowing what he was begging for. 

The Imperial slammed into him one final time and was still, letting out a groan. Wes moaned, imagining he could feel the man's come spurting into him even through the protective. He was nothing but a hole for his master's use.

The captain pulled out, quickly removed the protective and tied it off, and tossed it aside. Wes felt his leg binders loosen, then with a quick stroke of his vibroblade, the Imperial cut the ropes holding Wes's arms stretched over his head. Wes dropped to his knees and turned, panting, not a thought in his head but to look up at the man now standing close before him.

"You may come, slut," his master told him negligently. "But make it quick."

Wes grabbed for his aching cock with both hands and thrust into the air, jerking himself desperately. His vision whited out and his whole body shook uncontrollably with the force of his release. Finally he sagged, panting, wrung out.

The Imperial tsked. "You've made such a mess," he said, annoyed. "Well? What are you waiting for? Clean my boots." 

Wes blinked and looked in front of him. Sure enough, he had spilled his come all over the Imperial captain's shiny black boots. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said, and bent down, beginning to lick up the salty fluid. He felt his face grow hot as he worked. This was the most humiliating thing he had ever done, and he would happily do this and worse for the man who had broken him so thoroughly. The Imperial captain now owned him. All Wes existed for was to make him happy. If he'd been able, Wes would have grown hard all over again in his ecstasy at how utterly he was willing to debase himself for this man. He wasn't even doing this in hopes of any reward, only because he was broken down to nothing and he needed to serve.

Finally the boots were cleaned. Wes settled back, kneeling with his hands on his thighs. "How may I serve you next, my lord?" he asked.

The Imperial cupped his chin. The Captain leaned down and kissed him. He undid the binders and pulled away. "Stand up and go to the bed. You'll wait there until I have use of you again." 

Wes stood up on wobbly legs and stumbled to the bed. He collapsed onto it and tried to sit rather than slump.

Moments later, Hobbie returned. Relaxed and friendly Hobbie. He had some fruit and water. Hobbie approached and gently pet his head then sat down. "You need to eat, lover." 

Wes sagged against Hobbie, suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened. "Thank you," he murmured, beginning to eat and drink slowly.

"You're welcome. You did so good," Hobbie told him gently, wrapping an arm around him. "So very good." 

"Good," Wes echoed, drinking some water. "I'm glad. I liked it."

"I liked it too. It was very good. You were so wonderful," he praised. 

Once Wes had eaten and drunk his water, he looked at Hobbie, waiting for his next order. 

"I want you to sleep, ok? Lie down beside me and let's sleep," Hobbie told him. 

"Okay," Wes said obediently. He lay down and stretched out, looking up at Hobbie adoringly.

Hobbie took off his pants and laid down beside him. Hobbie kissed Wes gently, holding him. "I love you. I love you so much. Sleep. I have you." 

Wes nestled his head against Hobbie's chest. "Thank you," he murmured, falling asleep.

***

Wes woke up slowly. He felt sore all over, especially his butt. He groaned a little as he stretched out. Hobbie woke immediately, obviously on watch. 

"Are you ok?" Hobbie asked. 

"I'm good," Wes said. "I'm sore, but not in a bad way. That was amazing."

Hobbie nodded and relaxed, rolling to his side to look at him. "Excellent. I'm so glad." He looked pleased with himself, the minute flicker of emotions on his stoic face almost a secret between them. 

Wes hugged him close. "Was it good for you too?"

Hobbie squeezed him tight. "Absolutely. You were perfect and I really, really enjoyed myself." 

"I'm glad," Wes said. "What was your favorite part?"

"Must I pick a favorite?" Hobbie asked, smirking. 

Wes leaned up and kissed him on the lips. "I suppose you don't absolutely have to," he teased. "Was it really that good?"

Hobbie nodded. "Honestly, I have a list but my most favorite? Watching you lick your come off my boots. Then you breaking so nicely for me. Then our banter," he said. "I really did love all of it." 

"Of course you have a list," Wes teased. "Licking your boots was so hot. I didn't expect that to happen but I'm really glad it did."

"It was in the moment," Hobbie said. "I hadn't planned that at all." He reached over and grabbed some of the leftover fruit, popping a piece in his mouth and offering some to Wes.

Wes ate the fruit eagerly. "I need a real breakfast," he said. "That was... kind of a lot."

"I figured," Hobbie told him. "I can cook eggs?" 

"That would be lovely," Wes told him. "I'm going to get cleaned up while you cook, if that's okay."

"No, please. Be my guest," Hobbie told him. He pulled on his sleep pants and put on a shirt before leaving the room. Wes stood up, groaning slightly at having to use the sore muscles in his ass, and went into the fresher.

Once he was washed off, he felt a little better, and went into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his hips. "How's breakfast coming along?" he asked Hobbie.

Hobbie pointed to the warmer that held two plates of food. "I may have burnt the eggs a bit. Definitely the bread. Sorry." 

Wes chuckled. "I can still eat it," he said, picking up one of the plates and sitting down at the kitchen table with it. "So should we do something like yesterday again in a while?"

"I'd like that," Hobbie told him, taking the other plate and bringing a carafe with caf in it. "I could always use a broken rebel pet." 

Wes chuckled. "You really got into character. Should I be worried?" he teased.

"Probably," Hobbie told him as he took a bite. He chewed and swallowed. "I have considered what it might take to form an Empire. Once or twice," Hobbie teased him. 

"You'd have to get Wedge on your side," Wes said thoughtfully. "And the Wraiths. It might be more work than it'd be worth."

"Wedge isn't that hard. It's just in how you phrase it. As for the Wraiths, I have you, don't I?" 

Wes laughed. "True. I could probably bring them around. Not if you're keeping me tied up in your bedroom as a fuck toy, though."

"I'll let you out as a treat," Hobbie told him with a smirk. "Aren't I just the nicest Master?" 

Wes wriggled in his seat. "Maybe we should save this conversation for after breakfast," he told Hobbie, grinning. 

"Mmm, I like seeing you all bothered but very well. But in a more serious way, are you alright with what happened? Any complaints or suggestions to improve?" 

"It was great. You broke me really well," Wes said, remembering. "I loved how slowly you took it when you were teasing me. The banter was fantastic. I really can't think of anything that could have gone better. You were perfect."

"Excellent. Always good to know you've done well. You, as a matter of fact, were perfect as well. I really did wonder if you'd break. It was definitely a challenge." 

Wes blew him a kiss. "I'm glad. I wanted to make it good for both of us, and it sounds like that definitely happened. It was really hot."

"We should definitely do it again," Hobbie told him. "Give yourself some time to get back to good and we'll see where it takes us." 

"Absolutely," Wes promised him, smiling. "This was incredibly fun. Thanks for doing it for me."

"You're very welcome. Thank you for suggesting it. I would not have even considered it." 

"Well, you do keep me around for my imagination, right?" Wes teased, his eyes twinkling. "I have to earn my burnt eggs and toast somehow."

"Good point," Hobbie told him. "The sex helps though." 

Wes cackled. "I am an expert."

"Which is good for you. Otherwise I'd just have to loan you out to my other agents," Hobbie teased. "Teach you something."

Wes let out a low groan. "Damn, don't give me ideas."

Hobbie looked at him and chuckled. "Good to know. But you'll always be mine." 

"And you'll always be mine," Wes told him warmly.

Hobbie kissed him. "Exactly," he said. 


End file.
